


Gemini Syndrome

by theworthofhollin



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Family, Gen, M/M, Mental Instability, Psychological Drama, brother feelings, everbody kind of lives?, ill try to stick pretty close, kind of, two minds/one body
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworthofhollin/pseuds/theworthofhollin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wakes up in a white hospital room in Sitka. His body is broken, his head feels heavy, and for the first time in 21 years, he is completely alone. Raleigh feels like the silence will swallow him whole.</p><p> </p><p>Hey there, kiddo. (says the voice in his head.)</p><p> </p><p>Oh. So maybe not completely alone then.</p><p>(AU where Yancy doesn’t so much as get torn from his mind when the Drift snaps as Raleigh just unconsciously makes room for him in his brain instead. Two heads are better than one, right? Even if there’s only one body?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically my way of coping with Yancy's death. Bare with me. 
> 
> All characters belong to Guillermo Del Toro and Travis Beacham. Please give feedback! We'll see where this goes and if I should continue.

The first thing he notices is that his head feels heavy.

 

The second is how cold his toes are. His eyes slowly open, and he waits for the blurs of color to form shapes. He’s in a hospital room. Alone. He looks down at his wrists cuffed with safety manacles to the side of the bed and hears the beeping start to speed up on the monitor. Images of dark water and the roar of the storm echo in his skull. He feels numb. Yancy. He gasps a breath. **Yancy** —

_Wake up._

 

He starts choking and gags around the tubes in his throat and he tries to scream but everything starts to break apart in front of him. He sees the door slam open and his head is _burning_ and shouts turn to muffled background noise and the beeping gets louder and louder and his vision starts to wash out when he hears someone calling his name—

_Raleigh._

_Raleigh. Listen to me._

 

The doctors are a blur of color and sound and he feels frozen in time while the rest of the world speeds up. Raleigh feels like he’s on fire for a single breathless moment before the agonizing ache in his mind explodes behind his eyes. Black fingers creep into his vision. His heart leaps into his throat and his brain feels too full _too full_ and the pain in his head is _too much too much too much_

_RALEIGH—_

He’s pulled into the dark.

 

 

 

_Wake up, you lazy fucker._

Wha-Yance—

 

_Wake UP._

No. Its cold down here. Let me stay.

 _Wake UP._ Raleigh feels a shudder ripple through him. 

 _Wake UP._ He feels weightless.

_WAKE UP. WAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUP **WAKEUP** —_

He feels the aching heat curl around him and tries to burrow further into the darkness, but it’s no longer the silent comfort he craves.

_If you don’t get your ass up here I swear to GOD, Raleigh—_

His feels warmer and warmer as he floats out of the darkness and focuses on the voice, so close, so familiar, like if he just reaches a little further he could maybe…

**_RALEIGH._ **

With a yank, he tears himself away from the sticky murk of black-edged bliss and opens his eyes again. He’s alone again in the same white room. He takes a deep breath and feels the burn in both his body and mind.

_Finally._

Oh. Maybe not alone, then.

_Hey there, kiddo._

He can _feel_ the relief in the greeting _._ He blinks his eyes and knows he’s not the only one using them. Yancy?

 _Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. Welcome back to the world of the living._ The voice in his head ( _Yancy_ , his brain whispers) chuckles.

Raleigh drops his head (weighted down with two minds, now) back onto the pillow in shock.

Holy Fuck. 


	2. In-House Discussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm trying to keep this balanced on the canon plot line, just with the added element of Yancy, so well see were this goes. This is kinda just a filler chapter before we get to the main events of the film, and it helps me to understand what the fucks going on here ( if you couldn't tell, I'm kinda winging it.) If anyone has any comments or ideas for when I throw the boys into the Shatterdome, please feel free to comment! or just comment anyway!

 

 

“Mr. Becket, if you see here, your immune system…”

She’s showing him a chart. It’s even highlighted, which he thinks is very nice of her. Lots of colors.

“And here you can see that the fractures through the left side of your—“

Oooh look. Pictures too. That’s pretty nifty.

“…it should only be about 2 more weeks of physical therapy before we try anym…” Her lipstick is really red. Like, really red.  It matches her nails. They look like talons. He wonders if they puncture the latex doctor gloves a lot. That must be annoying. His eyes follow them as they point to some blue highlighted words. He blinks slowly, and it takes him a moment too long to open his eyes fully.

He’s trying to listen to the doctor. He really is. Raleigh is sure she’s saying something incredibly important, probably life-saving information, but all he can hear is Yancy crooning out the lyrics to some shitty Miranda Lambert song and all he can feel is the searing burn in his temples and all he wants to do is move his left ring finger _just one fucking centimeter_ but his brain doesn’t seem to want to cooperate with everything all at once. Raleigh feels trapped in his own body, fingers spread too wide. His synapses are off-kilter snapping at nothing and he just wants everything to **realign**.  He’s not alone either.

_Hey, don’chu talk shit about ‘Randa like that._

Raleigh blinks. The doctor is looking at him expectantly. He doesn’t know what she said so he just nods like he understands. It takes more thought than it should. Yancy is still singing. The nod hurts and he closes his eyes until she just leaves the room.

His brain seems to be having a conniption fit from accommodating Yancy’s consciousness. They haven’t told anyone, either. Raleigh’s afraid they’ll lock him up (and he  half-thinks they might be right to try). Yancy’s afraid he’ll disappear if they “fuck around in here too much” (his words). _Its safe in here, Rals. Warm,_ he thinks one night after the nurses are gone. They spend the rest of the week trying to figure out the ‘why’ of the situation, but both of them were the farthest you could get from neurology buffs, so its mostly rough guessing. And with Yancy’s body torn to shreds somewhere at the bottom of the Pacific, they’re trying not to look the gift horse too closely in the mouth. It’s better than the alternative, Raleigh thinks, grateful. At least all the good parts of his brother are still here.

From what they can tell with the choppy memories of the fight, the Drift seems to have shattered inwards, flinging what was left of Yancy’s mental awareness in the empty space alongside Raleigh’s mind in some last-ditch survival technique. Raleigh can remember flashes of sound and light after he took down Knifehead ( _my badass baby brother taking the reins, fucker didn’t stand a chance_ Yancy comments smugly in the back of his skull. Raleigh ignores him.), and he remembers the excruciating pain after piloting Gypsy back to shore, but in hindsight, he thinks he can almost pinpoint the moment when their consciousness’ merged. Yancy can’t. He gets quiet when they discuss it and they don’t vocalize their similar thoughts on the matter, because if he’s honest, Raleigh’s pretty sure Yancy was dead for most of that fight. Not exactly a good thought to have rattling around.  

The hospital hall lights turn off, and Raleigh sighs in the darkness.

Yancy. What are we gonna do?

_Don’t worry, Rals. I’ve been thinking._ Yancy draws his attention to the television screen, muted and perched on the wall next to the barred window. The banner running across the bottom repeats itself over and over. **Work for Rations: Building a Better World One Brick at a Time.**

The Coastal Wall Project? Raleigh snorts. That piece of shit political propagan—

Yancy cuts him off sharply. _Well, are you ready to hop back in another rust bucket held together with duct tape and dreams?_ Images flash in front of his eyes unbidden (icy black water, the bright blue glow of kaiju blood in the water, the scream of his brother being sucked into the storm—

He clamps down on the memories. His teeth grind against each other and thousands of miles away he can dimly hear his heart monitor stutter wildly.

Stop that.

The memories recede, too slowly. Raleigh feels a flutter of an apology run through his head. They exhale in unison.

Okay. I get it. But what about—(he gestures helplessly at the manacles around his wrists. Apparently while he was huddled in the back of his own head Yancy had panicked and tried to test his physical control. It didn’t turn out well. It took 4 orderlies to drug him and they left the safety handcuffs on in the aftermath. Raleigh doesn’t really blame him. They haven’t really figured out the boundaries of this whole situation yet. Yancy had just shrugged and brushed the episode off with _sorry, bro, its not quite as simple as sharin’ a room._ )

Yancy doesn’t bother to answer the handcuff question verbally. He shoves forward memories of the doctors rushing around him, checking vitals and taking notes, and focuses on the back pocket of the head nurse of the ward. She carries her ballpoint pens in a clip on her left side. He can practically feel Yancy’s smirk. _It’ll be like taking candy from a baby_ , his brother croons. Raleigh feels a bubble of anticipation rise and forgets the ache in his body for a moment. Yancy is still here. Raleigh is still here. They’re both (mostly) alive and they have a plan. _Get out of the ward, get off the grid, and figure things out at the wall. Easy-peasy._ Yancy sounds so sure of himself.

“I’ve never even worked in construction, Yance.” He says out loud. His voice sounds ragged and echoes bizarrely off the empty walls of the room. But it feels more real. He can feel his brother’s exasperation.

_Who cares? You always were good with your hands. And I’ll help!_

Raleigh’s eyes start to drift closed. “In-House Discussions” (as Yancy calls them) tend to wear them both out mentally. He feels himself float into the recesses of his mind, Yancy’s consciousness stuffed in next to him in the darkness. As they succumb to exhaustion, Raleigh can’t help but think to himself: This is just like jockeyin’ Gypsy, huh, Yance?

A soft flutter of amusement. _Yeah, kid. Just like Gypsy._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chap: BECKETS+MAKO *sighs in happiness*


	3. Sisyphus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still kinda having trouble finding a rhythm when writing these boys. They overlap their thoughts so much its becoming a bit of a mess. Ill try and find an easier way to split the two, (but then again, thats kinda the point of the story). If anyone has any suggestions for plot points and such, I'd appreciate it!

Chapter 3:

“The good news is….I got three more work spots! Top a’ the wall!” The crew manager waved the cards above his head jauntily as the crowd groaned. _What an asshole_ Yancy muttered. “Yeah, seriously.” Raleigh grunted audibly in agreement, causing the welder to his left to turn and look at him warily. He was easily ignored. Besides, Yancy had already diverted their attention to the view screens in the corner. Footage of Striker Eureka standing over Mutavore’s carcass was overlapped with the Hansen interview. Chuck Hansen’s scowl was less than an inch from the screen as he tore into the reporter and Yancy huffed in amusement. _He’s an arrogant little shit, huh?_ Yancy remarked thoughtfully. _Herc’s gotta have his hands full. Kinda reminds me of you, yeah?_

Raleigh rolled his eyes. Jesus, I wish I could punch you.

The past few years had been shockingly beneficial for the two boys and their situation. Yancy described it as “symbiotic” or something, but Raleigh was just glad they’d found an easy rhythm. They pushed through the thinning crowd towards the station leader to grab harnesses and job slips. The crew leader, Richardson, was known for his arrogance and disrespect in regards to the welders, but Yancy especially hated him. His heavyset frame hopped off the box and he smirked cruelly as he wiggled the job slips between grubby fingers. Raleigh grasped one red slip in a gloved hand, but Richardson held on.

“Now don’t get too excited, boy, you might…slip up.” He hacked a laugh and Raleigh glanced down sharply, in no mood for games. He was easily a full head taller and he watched spitefully as the smirk slid off the man’s face as he met Raleigh’s stare, swallowing audibly. Raleigh held the gaze for a long moment, expressionless, before he broke off as the other worker grabbed for his own card.

 _God, I’m sick of that asshole. Not even that, bro, I’m fucking sick of this_ place _._

It’s food, rations, Yance. What else are we supposed to do?

_Somethin’ better than building a fucking cardboard fence for shit pay, that’s for damn sure. You ever heard of Sisyphus, bro? That’s the feeling I’m gettin’ here._ Before he could respond, the distinct roar of helicopter blades interrupted them and he felt his gut drop. The crowd shifted apart and stared in awe as Raleigh stepped forward into the clearing. He dropped his harness as the crowd got louder.

 Fuck no, thought Raleigh as he saw the government insignia stamped on the side. Yancy crowed in delight as he saw the PPDC eagle.

_Finally. Fuck YES!_

 

With coaxing coming from both angles, Raleigh caved quickly. _We’re ready bro, we’re ready, you know we are! We gotta get back on the horse, man!_ Yancy kept up a litany of encouragement at the back of their head while Raleigh tried to focus on not slipping up in front of Pentecost. By the time they made it onto the helicopter, it was almost a relief to drown out his brother voice with the sound of the engine. The Marshall seemed genuinely surprised at his acquiescence, but didn’t comment beyond a raised brow and a sharp nod. He kept a calculating eye on them for the ride back, though, which made it even harder for Raleigh to relax. Not that Yancy was calming down anytime soon. He pulled his coat around himself and settled in for a long trip.

Arriving on the landing strip in the midst of a rainstorm wasn’t exactly Raleigh’s ideal welcome. _Dude, we live in Alaska, how is this weather too extreme for you?_ Yancy griped at him. They were both tired and frustrated, so Raleigh just sunk back in his head with a mental wave of his hand. Yancy’s consciousness lept forward and took the mental reigns out of his hands seamlessly. They’d found that switching leads seemed to make them both more comfortable in the skin they shared, so every once and a while it was a good way to take a breather. The side effects of having one-too-many people in one body were mostly simple and easily rectified; just fatigue, dizziness, and headaches, except for his eyes. Raleigh’s right eye, once a bright blue, was littered with popped blood vessels and wiry red veins pushing out from its corners. It was grotesque up close, but from a distance, it was barely noticeable. Just less reason to look people in the eye, Raleigh had told himself. He didn’t mind.  Yancy thought it probably stemmed from the extra strain on his cerebral cortex, or maybe the snap in the Drift had had a physical effect. As long as it didn’t ruin his sight, Raleigh didn’t care.

And boy, was he happy to have his full eyesight when he stepped onto the strip. When Yancy reached their hand out to grab the umbrella and looked down into the dark eyes of Ms. Mako Mori, Raleigh felt like his half of their brain had shorted out in the rain. _Good thing I took lead on this one, yeah, numbnuts?_ He couldn’t even respond. At least Yancy could speak Japanese better than him. He was always a better listener, anyway.  He focused on her again, watching her blush in slight embarrassment.

Oh. She had a nice smile.

 _Christ_ , thought Yancy.

 

 

 

The elevator conversation was slightly uncomfortable on all counts. First of all, Yancy’s successful exchange with Mako seemed to raise his spirits exponentially. Which meant bad news for Raleigh, seeing as even in the crowded lift, he wouldn’t shut up.

Sibling squabbles were a lot more complicated in-house.

 _Dude, she was so checkin’ me out. –_ What? Yance, its my body, how the— _It was my expression_ , _though, so obviously that was all me—_ you psycho, get your delusions out in my head, you freak _—please, bro, you’re just jealous the hot rookie likes me better, I know your type_ —dude, shut up, you don’t even like girls— and _your point is? Ooohh check the tats on this one—_

 _“Is that Yamarashi?”_ Raleigh let Yancy’s words flow through his throat with ease. They’d gotten used to managing the main body functions together, although sometimes things got messy when Raleigh was stressed. Which made it doubly uncomfortable when Yancy’s conversation with the inked squint turned sour quickly. Of all the rangers this nut wanted to fangirl with, he picked a Becket?

“—more like 2500 tons of AWESOME.”

The lift went quiet, and Raleigh saw Stacker close his eyes in frustration. The silence in Raleigh’s head was unprecedented. Yancy had frozen up. Neither brother could quite articulate a response; both too busy trying to reign in the memories of their last encounter with a Kaiju. Yance wasn’t there for most of the terrifying experience, at least not physically, so he usually took it upon himself to calm Raleigh down in these situations, focusing him with small talk. It took him a moment to gather himself in the whirlwind of Raleigh’s head. Their left hand ached and they both clenched a fist. “Kid, don’t—“ whoops. He slammed their lips shut. The words had slipped out from Raleigh’s mouth before they’d realized. Mako’s eyes sharpened and her head tilted, curious, as the Doctor sputtered something meaningless in the background, “…or..or awful, ya know…”

Yancy and Raleigh took a breath in unison as the other squint in the heavy coat made garbled excuses. _Chill out_ , said Yance. _We can’t afford a screw up now. Not with Stacks right fucking here. Get a grip, kid._

Yeah, okay, he replied tightly. They looked back down at the significantly shorter man, thick, black glasses making his eyes look large and innocent. _He just didn’t know_ , Yancy explained calmly. Raleigh took his left arm and gripped the Doctor ( _Giezler_ , Yancy piped up helpfully, glad his brother was grounded again) high on his shoulder, just close enough to his neck to feel threatening. He looked the scientist straight in the face as he was declaring loudly: “—one day, I’d like to see one up close, and in person!” The lift doors opened.

“Trust me, you really don’t.” Raleigh felt the words leave his mouth coolly.

Giezler’s eyes flicked away after a moment, nervous, and as Raleigh slouched off the platform he could faintly hear the doctor’s high-pitched voice whispering to his partner “—his eyes dude, there was something weird about his eyes, I don’t—.“ It was quickly muffled by the other doctor’s furious response. The lift slammed closed mid-squabble.

 _You can’t let them get to you like that, Rals._ Yancy’s voice was stern, and Raleigh slowly relaxed under the familiarity of his older-brother’s “Don’t Fuck Up” tone. He turned and walked back towards the Marshall, Ms. Mori gripping her clipboard at his side. He met her inquisitive gaze and smiled softly in reassurance. She looked worried. (Raleigh stubbornly ignored Yancy’s drawn out _Jesuuus Christ)_

“Shut up,” he muttered under his breath as he rejoined the group.

“Sorry?” Mako blinked at him and Raleigh felt his blush all the way down to his toes.

“Uhh, sorry, yeah, just…uhhh…” he could hear his brother laughing as he floundered. “..nothing. Nevermind.” She looked at him for a pause, her brow wrinkled cutely and her red lips pursed in confusion. He wanted to rub his thumb across her forehead and smooth her brow himself. God, she was way too pretty for this place. (he ignored Yancy’s groan, again)

Mid-tour, they were interrupted by a gruff bark, followed by the least intimidating bulldog either Yancy or Raleigh had ever seen. _Isn’t he supposed to be dignified?_ commented Yancy, but Raleigh was too distracted by the image of Mako and the drooly mess greeting her happily on the floor. Maybe he should get a dog, he thought quietly to himself as he watched Mako laugh brightly as it pawed at her face. _Don’t you fucking start, you sap._

Raleigh blushed. Again.

_Yeah. Still here, Romeo._


	4. Ground Rules

Chapter 4:

 

_So, admit it. You missed this place._

He snorted a laugh, causing one of the hangar techs to look at him weirdly. Mako had just finished explaining the new upgrades to the Mark III jaeger, and the Beckets were in awe. Gypsy loomed above them, and Raleigh’s hands itched to reach out towards the glow of her heart. She had never looked so beautiful. So whole.

_Seriously, though. Don’t you feel like you can just—breathe in here? It’s like.... (_ he took a deep breath in Raleigh’s lungs and leaned over the railing)… _home._

He closed his eyes. The Shatterdome was bustling nonstop, turbines rolling, techies shouting unintelligible garble across the hangars, metal screeches echoing off the cavernous space. He did miss it. The dread of responsibility was slightly lessened by the reminder that he wasn’t alone, and the familiar sense of duty gave both the boys a solid grounding. This was what they were meant for. He smiled softly.

Please, Yancy, and you call me a sap?

_Oh don’t even start, I’ve felt you making those puppy dog eyes at the rookie, we’ve only been here for half a fucking hour_ Raleigh hunched in defense, his jacket collar touching his rapidly warming ears. Thankfully, Mako was still facing Gypsy Danger, deep in thought, and failed to notice his new tomato coloring. He could never handle his brother’s ribbing passively, even when Yancy _wasn’t_ reading his thoughts. He hadn’t blushed so much in his life.

Seeing Tendo made things both better and worse. On the one side, Tendo and Yancy were incredibly close during their years in Anchorage, and Yancy’s fondness was practically oozing out of their expression as the LOCCENT tech manager gushed about his wife and kid. It was a lot of emotion for Raleigh to handle comfortably, and it was impossible to ignore the slow simmering grief that lingered in the older man’s eyes, still there almost half a decade after the attack. It made Raleigh’s breath stick in his lungs when he thought about the of shell he would’ve been reduced too if Yancy hadn’t been there to pull him back.

His brother’s anguish was stifling.

_Maybe we could…_

Yance, you know the deal. You made the rules.

_It’s just, look at him. How can we do this to him. It’s Tendo!_

Raleigh felt his brow lower as another thought hit him. We have to tell him, don’t we?

No response. Then, after a pause, his brother exhaled sharply. _Shit. You’re right._ Yancy seemed thrown now that the prospect was actually necessary. _How else will we figure out if the Drift is fucked? What if we can’t even connect?_ His brother’s apprehension swamped through his mind, suffocating.

We…we can figure it out. Just take it one step at a time.

_Shit, this is gonna suck._

 

“51 drops, 51 kills.”

She recited her score with barely contained pride, and the combination of wide eyes and the satisfied flush on her cheeks was doing bad things to Raleigh’s higher brain functions. How could someone so cute be so deadly?

_Wow._ Yancy’s voice was stunned. _It’s like they made her in a lab specifically to push ALL your buttons._

“Wow, that’s…that’s amazing.” He speaks earnestly as he moves closer, stubbornly ignoring Yancy’s amused _Don’t get too excited, there, kiddo. “_ But you’re not one of the candidates tomorrow?”

She looks back down at the floor and Raleigh’s tempted to lift her chin so he can really _see_ her, but he’s still a bit embarrassed of his bad eye and doesn’t want her looking too closely. He shuffles his photographs to distract himself while she shakes her head and answers softly “No, but…the Marshall has his reasons.”

Raleigh has never wanted to punch a superior officer so much in his life. Yancy’s exasperation reverberates in his head and his older brother slips the words out of their mouth while Raleigh is distracted. “ _He always does, doesn’t he_?” She nods sadly.

For a moment, he thinks about taking his control back so he can at least finish talking with Mako, but Yancy is firm. _Dude. You’re tired and grumpy, and I haven’t seen you this emotionally screwed since that engineering tech back in the Icebox. Take a break. We don’t need you punching people out on our first day, bro. I promise I won’t embarrass you in front of the pretty rookie._ His voice is teasing but the unspoken concern for his brother’s mental fatigue floats near the surface of their connection. Raleigh hasn’t had this much pressure on his shoulders in a while, and he knows when he’s beat. Yancy can usually handle a comfortable 10 minute run at the forefront, so he settles in for a much-needed respite.

The conversation and resulting switch takes less than a blink of an eye. Mako never notices.

 

 

 

 

“Oi! Becket! Over here!” The gruff aussie drawl carries over the mess, and Raleigh heads towards Herc’s table hesitantly. He’d hoped he could maybe eat on his own so he and Yance could brainstorm the inevitable Drift situation, but it looked like he needed to get back into social groove of the pilots first. Besides, Yance had always liked Herc, so Raleigh didn’t think it’d be too uncomfortable. He couldn’t help but hope it would calm them both down after Yancy’s conversation with Mako and her evaluation of his skills. (He was still slightly defensive of Raleigh’s actions in Anchorage, which, while his younger brother appreciated the sentiment, it wasn’t exactly conducive to keeping a good relationship with Ms. Mori. Priorities.) And after Raleigh’s mental rest, chatting with the Hansens would probably do them both some good, anyway.

He could not been more wrong.

“That’s great, that’s really great,” the other pilot’s lip was curling slowly in contempt. “If we get inta’ trouble, I guess you can just _build_ our way out of it, ey, Ray?” The bite in Chuck Hansen’s voice was palpable and Raleigh felt his teeth grind as he chewed slowly. The usual ironclad grip on his temper was crumbling quickly, the edge of accusation in the other man’s voice eating away at his calm.  

Yancy was loving it.

_oH, DUDE, I shoulda brought popcorn._ His brother’s consciousness was as close to the surface of their mind as possible without actively taking the reigns. He was basically sitting on the edge of his seat. Raleigh could feel his amusement swimming around his head, but it only made him tenser. Next to them, Herc was steadfastly ignoring the conversation, glaring a hole into the metal table. Max was drooling, oblivious.

“It’s Raleigh,” he said slowly, his voice low. Chuck’s gaze flickered to his right eye, and he raised a brow.

“Somethin’ screwy with your eye, there, _Raah_ leigh?” he said, trying to look closer. Herc glanced up, scrutinizing, and Raleigh twisted away to look off into the distance.

“Not really your concern, kid.”

“I beg to differ, mate, considering I’m running this mission. They’d better not be saddling me with some half-blind, half-dead, psycho, has-been—“ Raleigh cut him off sharply. He leaned forward and glared at the younger Hansen, who was caught mid-stand, partially bent over the table in his attempt to get up. Their faces were less than a foot apart when he spoke, and his eye throbbed with the pressure of Yancy in his headspace. His brother was mercifully quiet.

“Do I look blind to you?” he whispered, knowing what his eye would look like full on. It wasn’t pretty, but it could be effective. Chuck Hansen’s face seemed to pale slightly and he extricated himself from the table with a surprising amount of grace. Grabbing his cap, his shoved it roughly onto his head as he grumbled something about psycho freaks and kaiju shit. At that point, Raleigh wasn’t listening anymore.

_You know, I feel like you take advantage of that a bit._

Yancy seemed slightly distracted as he commented while Chuck stormed away from the table, Max waddling contentedly at his heels. Raleigh focused in on his brother’s awareness while Herc spoke guiltily in the background. He felt a growing sense of dread as his brother went silent.

**No**.

He put as much mental authority as he could behind the single syllable. Yancy refocused on Raleigh and whined petulantly. _I can’t help it!_

Don’t you dare.

_He’s just so…_

You are not touching that shithead with a ten foot pole. That is a Ground Rule.

_Aw, c’mon Rals, he like an angry kitten, how is that not cute?_

Don’t even think about it.

_Didn’t you see his freckles—_

Out of all the fucking people in this fucking dome.

_He’s just so angry. Don’t you just wanna—_

No. Stop. I hate you.

Yancy sighed in defeat. _This is gonna be hella’ fuckin’ weird._

I hate you so, so much right now.

 


	5. Eavesdropping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY. 
> 
> I've been so swapped with finals these last few weeks I totally spaced on this chapter, then i kept getting distracted and I AM HORRIBLE. especially considering this chapter is a bunch of garbled nonsense, but i wanted to at least post something before i have to get back to studying. Totally unbetaed and im sorry for that, but hopefully ill focus a bit more over break and give youa ll some actual Becket drama. Sry again for the wait, here ya go. 
> 
> FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED (i could always use some ideas for the following chapters)

Hercules Hansen considered himself to be a pretty grounded man. He worked hard, he did his job, and he focused on the bigger picture. He might not be very observant, especially with his kid, but he did his best. He did his duty, and he knew from experience that doing your duty had consequences. Herc knew what color grief bled, especially on a soldier.

Raleigh Becket wasn’t grieving.

At first, it was just an itch, like that expectation that just didn’t match up. The younger man was worn and beaten, carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders, but he wasn’t broken. Herc read the report, and he heard the rumors of the Becket boys "Ghost-Drift". If the gossip was true, that was something that never left you. And this wasn’t a man who had lost his other half. He just seemed…distracted. Like he wasn’t quite there.

Herc was so lost in thought he almost didn’t hear the muffled voices coming from the barrack hallway. Recognizing the owner of the voice, he slowed and leaned into the shadows before the entrance.

“— don’t know why its so much harder. I can’t make through half a conversation without—not like….no….you just feel heavy—no, you idiot, not like that heavy.”

Herc leaned closer to the entrance and peered around the corner. He almost didn’t notice the hunched form in the empty hall, until it spoke again. Raleigh sat on the floor and leaned exhaustedly against the dirty metal walls, face huddled in the high collar of his jacket. Was he on the phone? No, he answered himself, thinking of the rapidly shrinking list of contacts left in Becket’s file. Seeing the multitude of names stamped in the morbid pattern of DECEASED and MISSING had left Herc’s chest feeling physically sore with sympathy. That boy had a lot of people to lose, and life hadn’t really pulled any punches.

“Gotta talk to Tendo again.” Raleigh’s hand poked out of the sleeve of his jacket to rub violently at his one gruesome eye and Herc winced automatically. That boy’s eye was terrifying. The veins sometimes pulsed and gave this weird illusion of movement around the iris. He hadn’t been able to look away all through dinner. Huddling tighter against the wall, Herc watched the blonde man’s hand drag slowly down his face, eyes closed as he muffled a sigh. Raleigh spoke into the thin dank air of the hallway and Herc only heard it faintly as it echoed off the rusty metal.

“Yance.” Herc’s breath caught in his throat. “Yancy, I don’t know what to do.”

The soft whisper tugged at his chest, and Herc silently stepped away from the corner and turned back towards LOCCENT. It had been too long since a prayer had echoed off these walls, and who was he to encroach on such a vulnerable moment. It might not be healthy, Herc thought to himself, but nobody in this line of work was ever entirely sane anyway.

                  Even if the boy _was_ trying to talk to his dead brother.

 

 

 

The next time Herc saw Raleigh, it was walking by the drill rooms on his way to lift. He heard the crowd first before turning the corner into the padded area, packed with a mixture of hyped-up compatibility contestants and whoever was bored and in need of cheap entertainment. He’d almost forgotten about Raleigh Becket’s lack of a co-pilot, so used to the faded image of the brothers welded together at the hip, and as he took a look around the room, he didn’t see many that stood out. He glanced to the center of the area.

Raleigh was in the midst of peeling his most recent opponent off the sticky floor with a firm hand. His physique stood out starkly in contrast with the other potential pilots; the broad shoulders, tapered waist, and over 6 feet of bulk making the power in his movements that much more intimidating. Herc analyzed the grouping of opponents again. He could see whoever had compiled the list had made an attempt to find someone lithe and small to balance out the overwhelming strength and experience, which made sense. But as Herc watched the next participant step forward shakily onto the mat; a young, compact, Asian man with tension soaking the lines in his back, he shook his head. He didn’t even have to watch to know the outcome. This was just sad.

Half a minute later, the smaller man’s body slammed on the mat and the echo rocked through the room. Raleigh leaned against his staff and pressed two fingers against his temple, rubbing hard circles in the skin. Herc watched as he took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, before exhaling and turning away and facing the Marshall and Ms. Mori. He was too far away to here the conversation that followed, but from the rigid line of Raleigh’s spine, he was at the edge of his rope. Herc pressed forward in the crowd, ignoring the patrons (who grumbled until they noticed who, exactly, was making their way through, and then proceeded to scramble back) and heading towards the familiar figure of Chuck near the front. Chuck acknowledged him with a curt nod and refocused back onto the steadily rising voices in front of him.

“—don’t think your brightest can cut it in the ring with me?”

Herc felt a smile twitch on his lips.

The open challenge was accompanied with a rumble of excitement that swept through the rapidly growing crowd and Herc noticed the Wei Teng’s next to him not-so-subtly collecting bets. Jin glanced up, catching his eye, and froze. "Ah, hey, sir, just, ah-"

Herc raised a silent brow before palming a few bills into Jin’s hand with a muttered “40 on the sheila.” He stubbornly ignored his son’s affronted look.

Mako stepped lightly into the ring, balancing on the balls of his feet as she and Raleigh switched sides of the mat. He couldn’t hear the muttered conversation but he saw the bright answering grin on Raleigh’s face and shook his head. “Be a bit more obvious, there, wouldja, mate?” he muttered  to himself as he watched the two position themselves comfortably on the edge of the ring. A soft buzz of energy was sifting through the crowd, and again, Herc let his calculated eye wander between the two very different Rangers.

“This is gonna be a train wreck,” grumbled Chuck under his breath, but Herc noticed even he was keeping his voice to a low level so as not to interrupt. On the dais, Pentecost signaled the start and Mako twirled her staff in position. Herc could see Becket’s brow raise in slight surprise, before he twisted his own staff into a comfortable defense pose with a tiny grin on his face. His stance was as close as one could get to a slouch while still remaining braced, lazy arrogance in every line of his body, and for a moment, Herc thought he didn’t care. But looking closer, he could see the twitch in the lean muscles and the deft flick of the wrist that brought the staff around in a swift rotation that exposed his exitement. He was like a little kid. Both pilots lowered their centers of gravity in unison, fluid and graceful, and Herc felt a bubble of hope flutter in his chest. This could work.

Mako darted forward swiftly, her staff smacking against Raleigh’s once, twice, three times in rapid succession before twisting her body around for another opening. Raleigh mirrored the movement, and for a full half a minute, the two danced around each other in a complex bout of deadly accuracy and precision. The fight was too balanced for either ranger to get the upper hand, and the frustration was starting to show. A minute passed and the encouraging shouts from the audience grew quiet, only the snap of the bao staffs echoing in the overcrowded room.

“They’re too matched,” Chuck hissed under his breath. “How the fuck are they _too_ compatible?”

Herc grimaced. If they couldn’t give and take, there would be no balance. It wouldn’t be safe to match them unless they had compatible weaknesses to match with compatible strengths. Chuck was right, they were too well matched. Mako flipped around one of Raleigh defenses just in time for the larger man to twist his body smoothly and block the oncoming attack. It was beautiful, but pointless. Herc couldn’t look away, knowing a blink would cost him the next two moves. The crease between his brow deepened and his son narrowed his eyes as his gaze darted between the two evenly matched opponents. It was wrong. The had no progress, no—

Something shifted.

Raleigh was mid-movement when he blinked and flipped back from Mako’s staff as it flew towards his face, barely escaping the maneuver.  Both were breathing heavily, and the body length of space seemed frozen in time. Mako’s expression was frustrated and confused as she wiped the sweat from her eyes, the blue in her hair stark under the harsh lighting. Herc watched as Raleigh squinted and rubbed a hand across his temple again, almost _painfully_. When he finally raised his head and blinked, something was different. It was like he-just woke up again, both eyes wide, and he flipped his staff back into the defensive positive with Mako reacting automatically. She seemed to sense the change too, and Herc watched as she calculated his body language. 

It was as if he was a whole new person.

His stance was strong, too strong, and when he darted in towards Mako with sharp, predatory force, she was shoved backwards in her attempt to hold him back. Gone was the grace and liquid power of the first half of the fight. In its place was an entirely different style, and Herc watched wide- eyed as the familiar precise militaristic freight train of movement was slammed against Mako’s flawless speed. For a moment, Herc could tell she was blindsided by the change, adjusting quickly and jerkily, until after several close calls the fight shifted back into the sharp frustrated rhythm from before.

And then Raleigh was fighting with two entirely different styles. And Mako was matching both. Herc narrowed his eyes as they wove around each other, the uniformity lost in the mix of movement. Chuck leaned in and muttered “the fuck—how’s he—“

“It’s a dialogue. But he’s switching forms too quickly.” Herc grunted as he watched. Something about Mako’s form was confusing him. It was too broad, too circular, and it made him wonder…

Chuck made the connection first.

“She’s fighting like she’s against two opponents instead of one.” His sons turned to look at him in confusion. “That doesn’t make sense, though. How's that working with just the two of them?”

Three people fighting in the ring, Herc thought. That’s why the other trainees were too overwhelmed--none of them had trained as if they were against multiple opponents. And it was working. 

It was _working_.

As Raleigh whipped by, tucking and rolling his form towards the edge of the mat (Mako smoothly following), Herc noticed the gruesome redness of the other man’s eye. The pulsing veins darkened the scarring in Raleigh’s skin, and even moving as fast as he was, Herc could see that something was wrong. He looked across the mat to find Stacker’s gaze, intently focused on his daughter in the ring, and cut a quick hand across his neck subtly. Stacker nodded and called out.

“All right, enough!” the call caught both fighters mid-motion, entwined around each other on the floor in a standard grappling position. “I’ve made my decision.”

Herc looked towards Raleigh again as he detangled himself, gauging his eye-injury, but couldn’t help and smirk at the awe-struck look on the American’s face as he watched  Mako bow towards her father. Somebody else had made a decision, too, it seemed. Becket pushed himself off the floor and dug the palm of his hand roughly against his damaged eye, the lines around his mouth creasing downwards as he shook his head slightly.  

Herc backed away from the edge of the mat and turned just in time to see the telltale pompadour and suspenders turn around the corner. He jogged to catch up, mind racing.

“Choi!” he called after the smaller man.  “Choi, hold on, there, mate.”

Tendo turned back and waved slightly, mouth full with a wheat bagel and both hands holding coffee mugs, as he waited for Herc to catch up. The hallway was filling rapidly as the crowd left the practice area, and Herc leaned down and muttered low: “Can we talk? I’ve got a few questions about our boy Becket, yeah?”

Tendo raised a brow and motioned vaguely towards the bagel in his teeth. “Oh, right, yeah.” Herc pulled it out and tried not to cringe at the saliva on the edge. Tendo nodded brightly and asked, “What can I do for you, Hansen, my man?”

“Well, I’m just wanted to know—“ he looked up as a group of techies walked by, talking loudly, and pulled Tendo towards the wall out of the stream of people.

“I need to know if you’ve heard of,” he hesitated a moment, then an image of Raleigh curled against the wall outside his rooms rose unbidden into his thoughts. He continued, “well, if you know anything about… Ghost-Drifting.”


End file.
